


life without revision (will silence our souls)

by Everyone_Every_Ever



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Christmas Eve, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-24 21:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22024789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everyone_Every_Ever/pseuds/Everyone_Every_Ever
Summary: Something about snow had always been incredible to him- the world erased, melted, renewed, like he had so longed to be. As a child, he would stare out his window on Christmas Eve, wishing for another chance. To be himself, to be loved, to be new. To be snowed upon like great mountains and the feathers of pine trees, to shed the weight of it in the spring and emerge, thawed and bright and blossoming like the buds of sleeping bushes waking up.The first five Christmas Eves Alex and Michael spend together.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Kudos: 43





	life without revision (will silence our souls)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [estel_willow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estel_willow/gifts).



> For hannah-writes, for the Roswell Secret Santa! 
> 
> Hopefully this is somewhat similar to what you wanted?
> 
> Title from Snow by Sleeping At Last

1.

Snow fell heavily on the ground outside the cabin, turning the world into something like a powdered donut. The warm blanket lump next to Alex shifted closer to his side, curly, sandy hair poking out and tickling Alex’s collarbone.

Something in his heart swelled as his alien boyfriend slept beside him. The following day was the first Christmas they would spend as a couple. It would be snowy, and cold, and what Christmas should be, but rarely was, in the dry New Mexico town. 

It struck with a certain level of oddness that the two things he had wanted since he was a kid had both come true the same year. One, someone who loved him. Someone who knew him, who saw him for who he was, who took his faults and his frustrations, his hurts and worries and imperfections, and wrapped them into his arms. 

Second, snow.

Something about snow had always been incredible to him- the world erased, melted, renewed, like he had so longed to be. As a child, he would stare out his window on Christmas Eve, wishing for another chance. To be himself, to be loved, to be new. To be snowed upon like great mountains and the feathers of pine trees, to shed the weight of it in the spring and emerge, thawed and bright and blossoming like the buds of sleeping bushes waking up. 

And he had shed a lot of weight. His father had died months ago, at Michael’s hands- horrible, terrifying, but justified. He had left the military, started a computer engineering company with Michael about three months ago. He had friends, a family, and a home. It was more than he could dream of.

A sleep-rough voice shook him from his reverie. “Alex?” 

The man blinked, looking down at Michael, still pressed against him. “Hm?” 

“What’s wrong?”

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“You. Snow.”

“Thinking about how badly I can beat your ass in a snowball fight?”

Alex snorted and reached to grab his boyfriend, but he was already halfway to the door. “Hey!”

“Conceding defeat before we even get out?” the alien teased, pausing for a half-second by the coffee table. 

“In your dreams,” Alex snarked back, up and at the door before either could say another word. 

2.

The next year was… different. Snow didn’t fall, Michael was out of town to meet with a possible partner for their company, and his friends were busy preparing for the following day. It didn’t feel like Christmas. 

Alex scoffed at his own thoughts. He had had this same Christmas for years- lonely, alone, no snow on the ground. But, in one year, he’d adjusted to the love he felt, to the crisp snap of the air when he walked outside on a snow-covered porch, Michael watching through the window to telekinetically catch him if he slipped on an icy patch. 

The window his forehead pressed to didn’t fog from his breath, and the window barely chilled his skin. Even his heart didn’t feel right, self-pity and sadness and wishing for his boyfriend to return plucking at it like an out of tune guitar. 

Against his leg, his phone vibrated. Without looking at it, he shut it down, too busy brooding to care what a random text had to say. 

The text was the last straw. Shoulders shaking, he drew a blanket around himself, concealing his sobs from an empty house. Tears streamed hot down his cheeks, soaking into his shirt even as he tried to brush them away. The tree sat in the corner, mocking him with lights and shine, the only presents under it ones that Alex himself had wrapped.

It was Christmas Eve again. Two days from when his boyfriend was meant to return home. 

He knew Michael would be back- of course he would be. And it would be soon after Christmas. But it wasn't enough to shake him from his distress. He wanted his love now. Not on the twenty sixth. Then and there- Christmas Eve. 

He wanted Michael for Christmas. 

But he knew he wouldn't get what he wanted.

3.

At eleven forty three on Christmas Eve, the left side of the bed Alex shared with Michael depressed slightly. Alex kept his eyes focused on the wall to the right, the Christmas from the year previous replaying over and over in his mind. Stubble gently scratched his shoulder, warm, strong arms wrapping around his stomach, drawing him close to Michael’s chest, a warm flannel blanket moving to shround them both in warmth. 

“What’s on your mind?” Michael asked, voice quiet and gentle.

He couldn’t answer, throat tight with unshed tears. Instead, he turned around, shoving his face roughly into Michael’s shoulder, hands reaching up to tangle into soft curls.. “I missed you,” he managed, tears shattering the words into stuttered fragments. “I missed you last year. You were gone.”

For a moment there was no answer, just Michael’s hands stroking down Alex’s back, soft shushes all that broke up the trembling sobs echoing from Alex’s chest. Then, “I’m sorry.” Tearful, apologetic. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, again and again, hugging his boyfriend tighter as they both shivered, together and sad, regretful and awful. 

4.

The fourth Christmas he was with Michael, he could nearly forget about the loneliness he had felt two years ago. With Buffy constantly trying to snatch ornaments off the tree, plus shopping for not only their friends, but also Liz and Max's baby girl, it was hard to think about anything but the moment. 

There was no snow again this year, but it hardly mattered. He didn't need a rewrite. In fact, Alex quite hoped he would never have to rewrite his life again. (Not that snow wouldn't be appreciated. He just didn't need it as much as he had that first year, still unsure what would be taken from him and when.)

A raucous cacophony of shouting and barking from the bedroom snatched his attention away from his thoughts. "Buffy!" Bark! "Drop it!" Woof!

Alex rolled his eyes at the arguing between his boyfriend and their dog- it was hardly the first time, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. 

5.

Christmas number five. Or, their fourth in one room, as their second was spent apart.

The smell of eggnog, bourbon, acetone, and pine filled the air, mixing in a rather repulsive way, though Alex was loathe to tell his now-fiance that the drink concoction he had made himself smelled absolutely nauseating. 

Buffy stretched across both their laps, twitching and drooling in doggy dreamland, imagining the bones and treats she would get in less than a dozen hours. Her gifts sat on the mantle, slightly displacing the new photographs that had taken up residence. One was of them, their friends surrounding them, after they had proposed to each other. (Michael insisted he had decided to propose first. Alex knew that was very incorrect- Alex had the idea first, and he also proposed first. Michael didn’t have to agree on that.) In another, Michael, Isobel, and Max, together and happy. As odd as it was, it was probably Alex’s favorite picture. Knowing that, no matter what Michael felt, no matter what he said or did, he had been loved in the ten years Alex was gone. That, if something happened to him, Michael wouldn’t be alone. The last one was from two years ago- Alex, Maria, and Liz, all shoved into the same booth at the Crashdown, Kyle and Rosa behind them. They looked happy, young. As if it was eighteen, twenty, or so years ago, and they were all as close as could be. But there were no scared looks in their eyes, no nervous sideways glances, as there would have been so many years ago. There was nothing else to fear anymore. No parents, no secrets. No nothing.

In a way, Alex felt like he was younger than he had ever been before. In another, he felt seventeen, in love, and terrified. Maybe he was both, or maybe he was the oldest he could possibly be. Age felt meaningless, and time didn’t matter anymore. 

However old he was, wherever he went, whatever he did, he would go through life with Michael. And he would have as many Christmas Eves as there were years in his life to hold him, to kiss him, to love him.

And that was the best gift he could imagine.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, hopefully you enjoyed! 
> 
> I'm mothman-of-teslonia on tumblr!


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